


Halloween [SSS]

by xHonestSecretsx



Series: Sy's Sinful Saturdays [Vikings] [8]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx
Summary: Definitely non-con with all the boys





	1. The Hunt

[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/90d273510ea93606085737c32010b2e9/tumblr_ph9oz0QYFy1v19l0n_1280.jpg)

You hated this game.

Alphas and breeding games were all fun and games. But Alphas and scaring Omega games? Worse. Much, much worse. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t chase you around Kattegat, scrambling up crumbling barrels and desperately scratching the vibrant paint of homes like Ubbe. That, now that, kept your heart pulsing with a painful squelch?

This? This was the fear in not knowing when Ivar the Boneless was going to jump out at you. He played mindgames. I’ll catch you, (Y/N). He had warned. When you’re sleeping, when you think you’re most safe. You thought you had been so careful!

You never expected to be torn out of the warm water, dragged down hunks of rock with your king hovering about you. A blunt knife ran over naked stomach, quivering while you lay perfectly still. Its point was streaking into the pillow of your skin, drawing blood to the surface of your stomach. His hands pin yours above your head, long coffee coloured braids falling over his shoulder. A violent cackle bursts from his lips.

“Lay still.” Ivar warns, dragging his knife down to your pussy mound. “I wouldn’t want to slip.”


	2. Sigurd || Comicon

He didn’t really think you were listening when he told you all about his childhood. Binging silly animes all alone in his room while Ivar nursed with mother and his brothers stormed through her rose bushes. Somehow you were listening, pouncing around in a short little emerald green skirt at this Halloween themed comicon.

“Sigurd, Sigurd wait.” You twirl around and push him into the couch. It was late... time for dinner in fact. He was sure that Hvitserk wouldn’t mind, he had been snacking on Ramune and bean paste buns all day. But Sigurd? He was hungry and-- not for rabbit food either.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” Sigurd asks as you pull one of your white, boot snatched knees onto the cushion.

“Shh!” You giggle, pulling up your emerald skirt and running your white, satin fingers over your perky cheeks. Sigurd’s eye catches the men beside-- thankfully not looking as you flash off a powdery pink anal plug at him. One that is only highlighted by an obnoxiously large bow.

“(Y/N)!” He hisses. Your hands spreading your cheeks drop, pulling down your skirt over your pantiless ass. You giggle adorably, spinning around on your boot heel.

“Lets go eat!”

Sigurd runs his tongue over his parched lips, reaching out to grab your wrist and searching out the most private looking space. Oh he was going to eat alright-- but it wasn’t going to be dinner.


	3. Hvitserk || Greedy Boy

Going with you trick or treating was for a reason. Yeah, look cute with the three year old and bond. Sure, he needed to be closer to your kid… but… candy! He couldn’t count the cherry lollipops that he had. It was an insane amount that he had in the pillowcase and after the little one went to bed, he had been relentless.

“Doesn’t this hurt?” You gasp with his cock bouncing between your well oiled breasts. Hvitserk was drooling around a cherry lollipop in his mouth, bouncing you up on his hips. There went that pillow. Fuck, he really, really loved tits. He loved the way his crown peeped up from the top of your jiggly, fleshy tits coated in his white spunk. He liked to see your expressions and watch as your moist tongue drooled over a round cherry lollipop. The way he was thrusting so violently, you thought he would pop!

“Jus-- just one more.” He pants. “One more…”

One more your ass.


	4. Ragnarssons || Clan Claim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely non-con with all the boys

What was sacred to alphas?

The answer was nothing. Absolutely nothing. When they found something they wanted; they went after it in one way. As a clan. If Ivar wanted something, if Hvitserk wanted anything, the brothers would go get it. With gold and glory or most animalistically: omegas.

It was her fault for smelling sooo good.

Ivar’s knot swelled deep within her, spurting out thick and heavy seed down her newly ripped hole. She was too small to take Bjorn’s well endowed cock. His knot ensured blood and spunk mixed with each other. It kept her welled in place for some time after he came down from a powerful orgasm.

First picks of the virginal hole was his-- but Hvitserk was revved to go. Apparently so was she, throwing herself over the ground to try and escape. But the oldest of the brothers knew what she was planning, dragging out her legs from underneath the ground. The forest burst with her loud scream bouncing off of the trees.

“Lemme go!”

“Your turn, Hvitserk!”


	5. Ubbe || Behind the Mask

The giggles tipped him off.

You were a terrible, terrible piece of prey. In fact, if you were out in the wild he was sure something would have eaten you by now! You had no right to be pouncing around in the crimson little skirt without him having a taste first.

“Come here, baby.” Ubbe barrels himself forward, narrowly missing when you squeak and dart in the the other direction toward the door. You twirl about, hitting your hip on the coffee table near the door, waggling your hips and the fluffy white undercoat underneath– but no panties. Your pussy pretty and on display for everyone to see.

“You know you’ll lose.” He hisses. Your hand cups the knob of your front door, cracking it open. Ubbe growls audibly. Of course you would go out. He takes his mask, affixing it over his face. Halloween or not– he’d always win this hunt.


	6. Lurking

It wasn’t the first time he had lurked.

But it was certainly the wrong time to be lurking. You were the newest woman in Kattegat. With skin so flawless and curves so perky despite your confessed age-- he wondered about you.

It was a mistake.

Your hand was tight around his ankle, dragging him away from your fresh, young kill. An older woman now five liters of blood less full and flesh that had been torn into and devoured piece by piece within the forest.

Ivar’s hand found his blade when you drag him below you, jaws hyperextending to support a line of shark-like teeth. Any other man would have been screaming, but Ivar the Boneless sunk his blade into your cheek, past the soft delicate tissues of your jaws. Momentarily jarred, you swiped the blade clean of your jaw. Fibrous strings begin to pull your cheek together, and well, all he can do is stare a moment too long. Your jaws lurch forward, meeting his neck and clamping down with such great force that again he fights you.

You shake him like a doll, snatching the fight out of his very bones. Your gums recede and a liquid poison spills through his him. Pain sears through his veins pulsing toward his heart. Then, a unique and foreign pleasure soars through his bones. He gasps out through his pain as his cock reacts with a feeling he’s squeamish too: rising below his trousers.

“...please.” He pants lowly. Your fangs pop free of his neck, lathing his neck in saliva to coagulate and stop the bleeding. He detests the need that soars through his bones-- as if you are the only one who can fill this strange need for a bond.

“You have my bond.” You smile, pulling his pants down from his cock that springs forth. He aches with unparalleled need. You sense it in your bones, working your burgundy skirts off of your skin. You lead him to your sweet pussy and sink down slowly, deliberately. Shocks of pleasure sore through him. “I am your Domina and you are my blood son.”


	7. WHAT was that?!

He was already set off guard from the start of Vetrnætr. After all, it was the time of spirits. That night was a sharing of ale, sacrifices to the gods and most of all, Lagertha had brought masks of sheep and cow to have her dancers join in. Still– the ale was sweet on his lips and you were much sweeter, drinking him up like he was the fine drink himself. 

Finally back from raid, all he wanted to do was enjoy himself. He wanted to relax and have you all to himself. Perhaps that was why he was so quick to unbuckle his pants and bring you onto his lap. Everyone was doing it– having sex out in the open with the gifts consecrated to the gods. Hvitserk slid himself into your wet channel, relishing every inch of your warmth that he so desired while out raiding. The foreign women were good but there was nothing quite as good as your woman’s pussy.

“Take this off.” Hvitserk tugs at your gown like he usually did.

You shift your hips against his, keeping him hilted deep. “No, Hvitserk.” You moan, taking his shoulders into your hands and using him like your own fuck toys. Your cries fill his ears with pride– that’s his name you’re screaming. But then, something shifts against his stomach.

It’s like a small ghostlike touch, running across his own flat stomach. Once… once is okay. He can be a big man and pretend lie he wasn’t growing goosebumps. But by the third, he’s convinced Lord Odin sent ghosts down to torment him. Maybe for betraying Bjorn.

“What the fuck was that?!” Hvitserk snaps in his agitation– pushing your chest back. You smile so cockily as you slip off your dress at long last and bring his palm to the swell of your stomach. A small limb runs across the surface, bumping up against his palm.

“I’m pregnant.”

So maybe the first thing out of his mouth shouldn’t have been ‘with whose?!’


	8. Sigurd || Prey

She was the source of the problems.

She fell in love with him when he was with Margrethe– and maybe he loved her too. The relationship was complicated. She bit his oldest of brothers, converting him into the rutting monster he was now. He was backing up with no where left to run as she came closer, her iris whitening in nothing short of lust.

“(Y/N), (Y/N) wait.” Sigurd stutters, looking back to the wall of the Great Hall as she rips his pants clearly off. The moon was quickly approaching to full mast in the sky above. There wasn’t much time for him to talk sensically. She rips off his pants, thrusting him onto the ground. Her long, claws scratch up spirals of the wood below as she rushed over him. Sigurd braces himself for it. Her walls deep in heat dragging him into her sweet pussy. The pheromones fill the air, deep in his skin.

For a human– he knows that it’ll make him desperate. Panting underneath her, begging her to stop touching him. The alpha female uses his cock as if its a toy, raising and dropping her hips upon him at an inhuman pace. She takes him with such pride, such pleasure. The snarls elicit the soft groans of his brothers in the other rooms. He can already hear Ubbe’s rut strangling cavernous moans out from his vocal folds.

“Fuh– fuck! I’m not ready! Please!” He reaches out only to have his hands pinned above his head with one of your hands. Your strength, inhumane. He turns his head into his rich curls to hide his handsome face.

(Y/N), his chest reads the next day. (Y/N)’s cock, it means.


	9. Ivar || No Other Eyes

He thought he had been absolutely clear of what he expected. He expected that you wouldn’t wear that itty bitty skirt to his parents Halloween party. You insisted that it was all apart of the fun. That even Margrethe was dressed up.

But Margrethe was a skank.

“Fuckin’ slut!” Ivar pushes your back down, using you as if to support his violently thrusting hips. Your moans were pathetic and soft groans of pleasure, his cock shifting against the best of spots within you.

“What were you thinking wearing this?!” He snaps off. “In front of Hvitserk!”

You gasp out, his hand ringing around your waist to find your clit yet again.

“In front of Ubbe?!”

Another orgasm rips out your highly abused body, your knees quivering up to your hips trying to support his body of muscle draped over your back.

“In front of my father!”

You were thinking it would be fun.


	10. Sigurd || Jormungandr

The brothers quickly realize those pliable binds– black with iridescent green, belong to a long snake tail. Her body rises from the layers of her massive body, as deep green as the rest of her. It’s a snake woman, definitely a snake woman!

“We’re going to die.” Sigurd’s wide eyes are blown, and the words cause the giantess snake to sweep them closer in the muscle of her tail.

“Oh no no,” She brings the tip of her tail around, flicking up the underside of Sigurd’s chin up before it travels lower… and lower… Sigurd’s body has gone rigid when the tip sweeps over his flaccid cock. The strange monster fists him to hardness with her muscle. “I’m going to have fun with you, little Svafnir. I’m going to milk you completely dry of that dragonslayer spunk. I’ll breed Odin’s sons for banishing me here. Then I’ll eat your brother.”

Sigurd is pretty sure they’ve both lost their breath.


	11. Hvitserk || Not What They Seem

Nuns were easy.

They were things that could be easily abused, easily taken. He loved nuns! Raiding always went well when they were involved. Not only did they have gold, but they could be virgins too. This time, something was off. He had a burning headache in the back of his head when he awoke. Not one nun, but a flock of them hovering over his body. 

They fist his cock to hardness, pulling the very draping clothes off of their bodies in a raunchy display. Save the necklaces, glimmering in his eye. He pulls one binding, then another.

Stuck. He was stuck. There was no Bjorn to save him now. He feigns a smile, weakly thinking he might be able to smart his way out of this one. 

“Don’t worry, prince Hvitserk.” A nun with blackened sclera turned her eye towards him, a smile full with jagged teeth glimmering at him. “We have to keep you alive to take your life force, don’t we?”

He swallows dryly, eyes falling down to the woman on his cock. The picture suddenly all comes together. These women?

Succubi.


End file.
